SMFC | Chapter 14

Yoo Haeon spoke again, as if driving a nail into place, his voice clear and steady. After finishing his sentence, he pressed his lips tightly together, as though he had nothing more to say. Lee Soo, who had been staring at those perfectly shaped lips as if they might never open again, soon furrowed his brows.

So it’s fine as long as I don’t touch him directly? Even though Lee Soo had read the original story, there were still many things he didn’t know about Haeon.

Being the protagonist, Haeon was detailed extensively in the novel. However, the issue was that while the novel thoroughly described his actions and thoughts, it barely delved into his past.

When Lee Soo had finished the book, he had sighed deeply, lamenting how much easier Haeon’s life would have been, how he might not have suffered or died, if only he’d had someone by his side to help him. He’d even eagerly searched to see if there were plans for a side story.

Now that he thought about it, the author had said it several times: Haeon had no one by his side, and one day, that would lead to great tragedy.

In hindsight, the line that had appeared early in the story… Did the author envision Haeon dying alone, with no one by his side until the end? Or was the hope that, even if it was just one person, someone might stand beside Haeon, seeing what he couldn’t, and help him carry on?

Though Haeon had closed his lips as if he had nothing more to say, Lee Soo, who had expected him to overreact or make a fuss, stayed silent. This prompted Haeon to glance at him.

Feeling his heart stir as he noticed how cold gray eyes looked back at him, Haeon lightly clasped and unclasped his own hand.

He played with his fingers like a child fiddling idly, clenching and opening his hand over and over again, until Lee Soo, sensing the attention on him, finally looked up and met Haeon’s gaze.

Those transparent, lifeless eyes didn’t seem like they belonged to someone truly alive. As someone who worked with life and death, Haeon could tell.

He wanted to see Lee Soo’s eyes as they were when he was alive—really alive. After a long silence, Haeon quietly asked,

“Can you turn your eyes back to their original color—gold?”

Lee Soo wasn’t too surprised by the sudden question. He merely touched the area around his eyes a few times and asked if Haeon didn’t like them as they were. Unable to bring himself to say, It makes you look like you’re dead, Haeon averted his gaze and nodded slightly.

The clear agreement caused Lee Soo to knit his brows in slight frustration. Muttering as if speaking to someone invisible, Lee Soo eventually returned his eyes to their original golden color.

There was no particular signal or sensation to indicate the change, but like the sunrise spilling faint light into the pink hues of Haeon’s eyes, the warm golden glow spread through Lee Soo’s irises, signaling the shift.

“…That’s better.”

The short comment from Haeon brought a bright smile to Lee Soo’s face. Though Haeon had audaciously critiqued someone else’s appearance, Lee Soo didn’t seem bothered.

Since Haeon wasn’t the type to gauge other people’s emotions so intricately, he simply thought to himself.

The smile before him bore an uncanny resemblance to Lee Soo’s golden eyes. Haeon quietly made a mental note, once again reminding himself that in five years and six months, he wouldn’t see those eyes anymore.

Oh, right. That means he’ll die.

Death often comes more suddenly than expected. That’s why people fear it and why life is said to be more beautiful—at least, that’s what one person sang.

But that statement is wrong. Haeon could prove it wrong.

It’s true that death can arrive unexpectedly. However, there are times when its arrival is predetermined. When death is certain, it’s not the abruptness that frightens—it’s the inevitability. And because of that, life becomes all the more despairing.

Even now, Haeon could recall multiple occasions when he had pronounced someone terminally ill, or in the worst cases, delivered news of certain death. Despite the countless scenarios, no one had ever celebrated the news of their impending end.

Everyone wanted to live. Some, in their foolishness, even lashed out at Haeon in anger, shouting, You could save me!

It was unfortunate, but Haeon had only spoken the truth. He may dislike people, but he does want to save them.

If he had allowed his emotions to dictate his decisions—if he refused to heal someone simply because he disliked them—he would have been kicked out of the Hawa Guild and had his awakened license revoked.

This also meant that none of the people Haeon saved were truly saved out of personal affection. It was simply out of a sense of duty and responsibility: If I don’t save them, who will?

With those two motivations alone, Haeon had saved many lives and would continue to do so.

However, knowing himself well, Haeon had always been certain that he would never voluntarily step up to heal someone. Especially if the person was close to death—he would simply let them go.

Or so he thought. Past tense. Thought.

Haeon, with a conflicted expression, crossed his arms and stared at Lee Soo, who sat obediently in front of him, rolling his eyes to curiously take in Haeon’s room.

Completely oblivious to the turmoil he had caused, Lee Soo continued looking around the room with fascination. His golden eyes glimmered as they moved, casting light like scattered rays of the sun.

Those radiant, sparkling eyes carried the innocence of a child. Haeon lightly tapped his arm as he dug through his memories.

“…You smiled.”

“Hmm? What was that? I didn’t quite catch it. If it’s important, could you say it again?”

Lee Soo turned his head, stopping his exploration of the room, and looked at Haeon.

His sincere apology, complete with drooping eyebrows, made Haeon momentarily pause before shaking his head. He replied that it was nothing—just a thought to himself. Relieved, Lee Soo’s long, fox-like eyes curved into a gentle smile.

Watching those golden eyes, half-hidden by his long lashes, Haeon suddenly turned away, clenching his arm tightly.

Unbothered by Haeon’s reaction, Lee Soo hummed softly, saying that if it wasn’t important, there was no need to mention it. His voice, light and tender, carried a peculiar kindness.

Though the voice had a faint chill to it, it didn’t feel cold. The subtle warmth in his tone and the glint of his eyes made it seem endlessly kind.

Someone once said there’s nothing more frightening than unexplained kindness. Having never experienced such kindness, Haeon didn’t know what it meant then. But now, he could say it.

Unexplained kindness is sweet, but also terrifying because you never know when it might disappear. Not knowing how to respond to such kindness made it even more intimidating. Lightly brushing his arm, Haeon’s lashes fluttered before he sighed deeply, wondering why he was acting like this, and approached Lee Soo.

Having dragged him to his room immediately after leaving the dungeon without even letting him rest, Haeon hadn’t yet mentioned the main topic. Lee Soo didn’t seem inclined to rush him, either, still engrossed in examining the room.

Lee Soo didn’t realize Haeon’s approach until he was right in front of him. When he did, he lifted his head, finally sure that Haeon had business with him.

“Are you done sorting your thoughts? You looked pretty deep in thought, so I waited… but it ended faster than I expected.”

Every word that followed was sweet. Sweet to the point where it felt like indulging in too many candies, afraid that the unfamiliar kindness might rot his heart.

Startled by the sweetness, Haeon took a step back, furrowing his brows slightly, and stared at Lee Soo with a hesitant gaze, as though inspecting something for the first time. His heart churned strangely. After much internal debate, he finally worked up the courage to speak, only to feel embarrassed by how serious he’d been when Lee Soo appeared so nonchalant.

“It’s not that. I just had some things to think about. But you’ve been sitting here this whole time. Doesn’t it bother you? Aren’t you upset or anything?”

“Not really. But other people might be, so it’s best to say what you need to as soon as possible.”

Lee Soo shrugged as he replied. Haeon let out a scoff, pressing his forehead lightly before dropping his hand. Knowing most people wouldn’t tolerate such treatment, but hearing Lee Soo say it didn’t bother him—was it because he was a genuinely good person, or was he just indifferent?

“Have you always been like this?” Haeon asked.

Lee Soo tilted his head slightly. “Hmm… I’m not really sure,” he said, smiling awkwardly.

After a brief pause, Haeon excused himself, lightly checking the pulse on Lee Soo’s neck as he asked,

“Then, do you always smile like that? Do you smile at everyone the same way?”

Lee Soo blinked at the unexpected question. He touched his lips briefly, then murmured, “Probably not.”

Before Haeon could ask further, Lee Soo grinned.

“I only smile like this in front of Yoo Haeon, the healer.”

Whether that was true or not, one thing was clear—Lee Soo’s smile was brimming with affection.

Looking at those endlessly sparkling eyes made Haeon feel as if his vision was spinning.